


soak up the minutes

by Trigonometrical



Category: Polygon/McElroy Vlogs & Podcasts RPF
Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Nonbinary Brian, Nonbinary Character, Other, gender euphoria
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 18:51:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23844277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trigonometrical/pseuds/Trigonometrical
Summary: They pair the dark purple a-line with a cute button up, the vaguely floral pattern set atop solid black. . . . Their co-workers are the fucking best, because no one bats an eye at Brian’s outfit. And also maybe too pointedly use their pronouns at every possible opportunity. (Especially Pat.)(God, they love these people. So much.) —"woke up this morning (with eyelids of lead)" by riverblujay
Relationships: Brian David Gilbert/Patrick Gill
Comments: 9
Kudos: 28
Collections: Polygon Remix Challenge April 2020





	soak up the minutes

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [woke up this morning (with eyelids of lead)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18906799) by [localcrypted](https://archiveofourown.org/users/localcrypted/pseuds/localcrypted). 

> Thanks to riverblujay for letting me get all up in this wonderful world they created!
> 
> Title is from "History Read" by The Altogether, and the italicized text at the beginning is from the original fic.

_They pair the dark purple a-line with a cute button up, the vaguely floral pattern set atop solid black. On a whim, Brian also decides to put on a pronoun pin, not their classic yet simple one with silver lettering and a smooth, dark-as-ink black, but instead one with the nonbinary flag set as the background. . . ._

_Their co-workers are the _fucking best_, because no one bats an eye at Brian’s outfit. And also maybe too pointedly use their pronouns at every possible opportunity. (Especially Pat.)_

_(God, they love these people. So much.)_

\---

Brian lets their nerves evaporate by the time they walk into the break room for their mid-late-morning cup of coffee. Of course no one would say anything, they’re the _fucking best_, but still. Tell that to their anxiety palpitations. Brian’s sure they’ll feel weird again like twenty minutes before filming, but for now they can drink their coffee and eat a Belvita bar in relative peace.

“Morning, baby—_Brian_,” Pat says, coming up behind them at the counter. Brian startles, their fingers twitching on the Keurig buttons. _Baby_. That’s new.

(But not, uh. Not unwelcome. Not at all.)

“Good morning, uh. Pat,” Brian replies. Pat’s in profile, his hands in the sink rinsing out a plastic container that once held instant oatmeal. But Brian thinks they see a blush on Pat’s cheeks.

Confirms it, too, when Brian dares to stand a little closer than they normally do at work.

They’re not _hiding _their relationship, per se, but they are being quiet about it.

(Brian would shout it from the rooftops if they could, and Pat would too, they know, but sometimes it’s nice to have something all for themselves. Even if Simone waggles her eyebrows at the pair of them whenever they walk into work together.

(They haven’t had sex yet, mostly hands over clothes, some fantastic make-outs on Pat’s couch when his roommate wasn’t home, but it’s _so _nice and _so _comfortable to wake up next to Pat, see Pat’s sleepy, smiley face first thing in the morning.))

“You ready for Overboard later?” Brian asks. They slide behind Pat to peer into the mini fridge, root around behind someone’s lunch to find their hazelnut creamer shoved in the back.

“Brian, I am—and I cannot stress this enough—never ready for Overboard.”

Brian laughs as they spin back toward their coffee mug. “At least you brushed your hair this morning,” they tease, raising their eyebrows. (It’s a flirt, a _definite _flirt, Brian’s now someone who flirts at work—and honestly, they can’t be mad about it.)

“Hey!” Pat says, chucking his container in the recycling bin. But Brian knows Pat’s not mad. Pat’s said before, late at night in Brian’s bed—both of them tired but neither of them wanting to fall asleep—that he gets too anxious trying to decide what to wear on filming days, so he just. Doesn’t. Grabs the first thing in his closet and heads out the door. Brian understands that impulse, especially today.

Pat turns and leans against the counter, one thigh crossed over the other, his long legs taking up so much real estate. “You dressed well enough for the both of us,” Pat says, doing a—

Huh, he really does, doesn’t he?

Pat’s gaze flicks from Brian’s curls down to their ankles and back up again, so subtle that Brian might have missed it except that Pat’s eyes linger at the hem of Brian’s skirt, the collar of his button-down shirt. Brian gulps, and they’re sure Pat sees that too.

“Y-yeah,” Brian stutters out. They nervously pick at one of their buttons. “Felt—this felt right, today.”

“It’s amazing,” Pat says, his voice low, more a breath than a vocalization. He looks left out the breakroom door, then right, and suddenly he’s gripping Brian’s hand and whisking them toward the back of the room.

“Pat what are—”

And then they’re in the single stall restroom, and Brian’s heart _thunders_, because they’ve had _fantasies_, okay, and the Vox single-stall restroom features in at least three of them. First it had just been nice because it was a gender neutral place to pee, but now it’s—well, it’s making Brian’s heart happy in a different way.

Pat shuts the door and locks it, and the sound doesn’t echo but Brian feels it in their toes somehow. “Are we—?”

“If you—” Pat says, and Brian reaches up, throws their arms around Pat’s neck, and pulls him in for a kiss.

Pat whines into it, this tight-thready sound from his throat (_oh, _oh) that gets lost in Brian’s mouth. Pat’s hands _drag _down Brian’s body, making Brian shiver as they press hot and heavy over Brian’s chest and belly. His thumbs tuck under the waistband of their skirt, and Pat’s knee notches between Brian’s legs, and Brian’s glad for it because they slump against the door, breathless and boneless under Pat’s fingers and lips.

“Is it—the skirt?” Brian asks, when they get a chance for air, when Pat’s mouth slides under their jaw with quick, non-bruising bites.

“Not the skirt,” Pat says, kiss kiss kissing all the while. He pulls back, blinks at Brian. “I mean, don’t get me wrong,” he amends, “you look _amazing _in the skirt—fuck, your legs are—” Pat shakes his head. “But it’s I think it’s more—you’re so hot like this. Feeling yourself. Feeling _comfortable_.”

“Yeah?” Brian asks. They can’t resist, capture Pat’s lips again, put their own hands to work squeezing Pat’s shoulders, pressing into the tense-taut muscle they find there.

“Yeah,” Pat breathes. “Fuck, _baby_.”

The second time, Brian reacts how they want to—opening their mouth, swallowing the soft gasp Pat makes when Brian grinds down against Pat’s thigh. _Baby_. It’s _good_.

“I was gonna put on tinted chapstick too,” Brian confesses, and Pat _groans, _laughs at himself weakly, his mouth pressed to Brian’s shoulder.

“Shit,” he says, a little guilty, that blush back on his cheeks. “I shouldn’t—”

“You absolutely should,” Brian says. They grin, and Pat huffs, dropping soft kisses on the soft fabric. “But not right now, because we’re at work, and we have to _film_ later, Casanova.”

“But after, maybe we can—?” Pat trails off, his eyes catching Brian’s, his eyebrows raised. And it sends a thrill—

(_such_ a thrill, goodness)

—down Brian’s body to pool somewhere above their groin.

“Absolutely,” Brian agrees. And Brian steps away, because they are truly _so _powerful, and the best datemate ever, to resist Pat when he looks so _utterly _kissable.

(And lickable. And _biteable_.)

“Besides, I don’t want you messing up my chapstick. Not here, at least,” Brian adds, and Pat groans again, his head thunking against the bathroom door.


End file.
